Finding More
by MillyMollyMandy81
Summary: As she padded around, barefoot, in Castle's kitchen, fixing coffee to his exacting standards, Kate was glad of some time to think. Her mind was blown by what had transpired between them the previous night.
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first _Castle_ fic and I hope not the last. I've not written anything in about three years – and writing this has given me a proper boost of adrenaline. I hope some people enjoy. MMMx_

**Finding More**

As she padded around, barefoot, in Castle's kitchen, fixing coffee to his exacting standards, Kate was glad of some time to think. Her mind was blown by what had transpired between them the previous night. It was like moving to a new city and coming home all at the same time.

The familiarity of his personality, the final acknowledgement of his love that had been there, she knew, for so long… And the strangeness of trying to come to terms with the reality of the new-found physical intimacy – wanting, struggling to wrap her head around the fact that she should find it awkward and odd, but didn't.

When they finally lay skin to skin, his weight on top of her, there was no awkwardness between them; it had been the most natural thing in the world. She had no memory of how they'd come to be that way, only a swirling sense of need and emotion. A gentle hand that explored her breasts as he laid on top of her, the way his kisses skimmed her lips as though he was teasing them both. It didn't matter: the wall was down and she needed him – the wall was down and she could finally admit that she couldn't do it all by herself and oh, she was ready to let him undo her, completely.

He had worshipped her in a way she hadn't known was possible. It was as though every challenging situation they had faced in four years had been ploughed into one hour of blissful pleasure. The way he caressed her face, softly ran his hands across her shoulders and down her arms; the tender and sweet manner of his kisses that broiled into heated exchanges that made her heart roar.

When he finally removed the last vestiges of her clothes and looked into her eyes for a final consent, her heart was gone, at her nod, he slowly sank into her and stayed there for the longest time.

"I can't believe we're doing this," he had whispered in her ear, grazing his lips over her ear.

The wonder in his voice spoke to new depths of her, and Kate could only cling tighter to him, move her hips against him and hope to convey with action how she felt, because words failed her. She moved her hands through his hair, pulled his head down towards her own, hoping he'd understand.

"Oh, Kate."

He'd always been better with words.

The coffee machine emitted a small puff of steam, indicating its readiness and bringing her back to the present. She didn't know Castle's apartment well enough to really know her way around the kitchen, but opening a few cupboards and with some well-aimed detection, she managed to find what she needed. As the coffee brewed, her mind wandered again.

They'd kissed for a long time after, lips moulding together - in exploration - but with no real purpose. Her mind had cleared to nothingness, an almost ethereal state in which only her lips and mouth existed. Then one of his hands started to move, while the other held her steadfast, softly and slowly caressing her back, her neck, her face. As her body responded, arching into his, it moved lower, over her buttocks and thighs; he turned her over and teased her. In equal measures, she wanted it to last forever and be over in sweet release. His fingers danced in the folds of her thigh, circled over to her stomach and down the other side. The desire for him to touch her _there_ was maddening, but neither was she ready for an end to the delicious torture. She reached out for him in an attempt to return just a little bit of how he made her feel, but he caught her hand, hushed her protest and said, 'Let me learn you.'

'And when do I get to learn you?' she wanted to ask, but as soon as the question popped into her head, she knew that she was, in letting him do this, in surrendering to him completely and allowing him to reach her. In a sudden moment of clarity she realised that he had been an open book, in comparison, and he needed this to make up for all the times she had held back.

His fingers circled closer and closer until finally they hit home and she almost caved in the exquisite sensation that sent shock waves pulsing through her body. At that moment, all she had wanted was to feel him inside her once again, to affirm what she wanted to feel, what she had felt, and what she was increasingly sure she wanted to feel for the rest of her life.

His head was resting on her chest, so it didn't take much strength to pull him on top of her completely – that warmth and solidity, the sense of being so utterly spellbound by the strength of belonging in something that was so new and so familiar. He took the cue, poising himself just long enough to tease the both of them into utter submission of the gravity of what had happened to them this evening.

Slowly, oh, so slowly, he lifted himself and pushed into her; and then he was still, but for his lips: they moved at her neck; he seemed to have learned her sensitive points so quickly – almost innately, and she savoured the thick, hard feel of him inside her as his lips and fingers played out a requiem to his calm and deliberate ministrations to her skin. And then they'd lost it, in a fit of passion and desperate movements, lasting just that bit longer for the second time before finally collapsing in an exhausted heap of body and limbs; satisfaction and belonging.

She had a dream-like recollection of walking in up in the night, his hands pressed over her body and her own, instinctively pressing into the warm one behind her. Sleepy and gloriously intimate, they'd made love once more.

Shivering at the memory, and grabbing both cups of coffee and heading to the bedroom, Kate reflected on that last time – how something so new had felt so normal and instinctive. As she sat on the swings, she'd worried that the intellectual intimacy they had built up over the last four years might be utterly undone by the more base instincts that had overtaken them the previous night.

"So, it wasn't a dream?"

He was already awake and she immediately felt guilty for the panic she saw in his eyes: that she'd left – run away, and in that very moment she knew her commitment to him was complete: now she knew that she loved him, never would she allow him to feel the doubt he must have felt in the past year.

As they teased each other, as though they'd been doing it for years – which, Kate supposed they had, albeit in a less obviously intimate manner, she thought as they exchanged suggestions, that it really was only a natural progression from what they'd been doing all along.

It was a thought that lit her smile as she leaned in for a kiss, and she ended up on the floor.

~The End - for now...~


	2. Chapter 2

_I really was taken aback by your kind feedback on my first _Castle _fic and by the warm welcome I received. It only seemed appropriate to thank you all by writing another installment - perhaps a bit racier than the first, so I hope you don't find it too much and enjoy. MMMx_

**Finding More – Chapter 2**

'Hi,' she breathed around a smile.

An hour ago they'd been standing in front of the precinct, a slightly awkward distance apart, each waiting for the other to say something.

'Can I make you dinner tonight?' he'd asked finally.

'Yes...But let's do it at my place.' Fewer chances of interruptions, she'd thought.

His lips widened into a grin – oh, _God, _she loved that smile – crooked and boyish and just a little bit naughty. As they parted, he'd touched the very tips of his fingers to hers: a promise of what was to come.

And now here he was, at her door, standing in front of her smelling fresh and manly, carrying a bag of groceries and looking so _handsome. _Memories of the previous night churned in her mind – so fresh and vivid and _real_. Safe in the knowledge that at some point this evening, she would know again the pleasure of being loved by this man who had woven himself into her life so completely, a heady rush of desire and anticipation thrilled her.

Kate was relieved when, after placing the overflowing bag of groceries on the floor, he reached behind him to close the door and then reached for her. His arms wrapped around her and she leaned into the already-familiar strength of his body, relaxing into the contact.

'Hi,' he whispered into her hair, his breath warming her as she turned her face towards his, his hand cupped her cheek and their lips met in the kiss she'd been starving for since the moment she'd woken that morning. Tender and strong; sweet and slow, he gave her what she wanted, and she responded with equal fervour.

When, finally, he pulled away, his eyes sparkled in a way that was _very_ familiar: he was about to tease her.

'Careful, Detective Beckett - you'll have to resist my ruggedly handsome good looks for at least as long as it takes me to cook you dinner.'

He took her hand, grabbed the groceries and led her over to the island in the centre of her kitchen. 'I'll manage,' she replied, grinning back at him; though, as she watched him begin to unpack his shopping, she doubted the truth of her words.

'To start,' he said, 'we have grilled asparagus; followed by my very special pasta carbonara; and for desert: chocolate mousse!' As he spoke, he produced each item from the bag

'Asparagus and chocolate? Aren't those _aphrodisiac_?'

The smile she received in reply was _wicked_; he wiggled his eyebrows at her and she laughed, but not before she wondered how he thought she was going to last for _three courses _if he was going to look at her like _that_.

'So, can I do anything?'

'Yes, you have two very important jobs to do,' he said, reaching in the brown paper bag once more and producing two bottles. 'Choose: red or white.'

She pretended to consider for a moment, and then opted for: 'White, please.'

'Madame chooses well. A good crisp and cold _Vermentino_ from the Tuscan region of Italy should complement the subtle flavours of the pasta sauce. Corkscrew?'

'Over there,' she replied, pointing to the dresser. She enjoyed his showmanship as he proceeded to open the bottle with a flourish and pour them each a glass.

'And my second job?' she asked, as he approached her, a glass in each hand.

'Take your wine, he said, standing _very_ close to her now, 'and go and sit over there.' He pointed to one of the stools. 'Your job is to be beautiful and sexy and provide inspiration for a master chef as he prepares his master dish.'

Then he kissed her, long and slow and deep, and oh, _god_, she needed that stool – no, she needed her bed – she needed _him_ in her bed, his hands dancing across her naked body as she laid herself bare for him as she had done for no man before; to be raw and needing and wanting; to hear the sounds he made as he loved her; to watch him in that moment as the world crashed down around them leaving only the blood roaring in her head and every nerve in her body on fire.

'Castle,' she whispered into his mouth, not even caring about the desperation she heard in her own voice.

In that moment, he stilled, seeming to become aware that he was in danger of derailing his – obviously quite well-thought-out – plan. He rested his forehead against hers, his free hand still cupping her face, holding her there. 'Later.'

The promise in his breath danced across her face, sending a shiver down her spine and the raw depths of desire in his tone brought about the realisation that in this moment, he wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him and he was teasing both of them: this was foreplay – all of it.

'Now sit,' he said, moving away from her suddenly. She obeyed, pulling one of the stools up behind her as he made his way around the island work station and began to lay out the produce. For a few minutes, he worked in silence while she caught her breath, only to have it utterly stolen again when he glanced up at her from his work, his eyes boring into her own, dark and wanting.

They ate their starter sitting at the counter, sharing a plate and kisses between mouthfuls. He touched her often, the memory of each one, stained onto her skin: a kiss to the side of her neck; fingers gently combing through her hair; a chaste peck to her cheek that burned in its simplicity.

She'd done her fair share of teasing, too, not entirely obliging with the direction to sit on the stool and look sexy; working her hands underneath his shirt as she leaned against his back, playing with the soft, downy hair above his waist band. She'd stayed like that for five minutes, before he told her off for distracting him and sent her back to the stool.

As she watched him work, Kate realised how much she loved having him in her space – how comfortable she was having him there, using her kitchen - breaking out pots and pans as though he'd been living there for years. They talked about the cases they had worked on in the past and which ones might give him some ideas for his next Nikki Heat novel. In a more sober moment, they talked about her mother, and the stories behind some of the photographs she had on display.

When he served the main course, Kate playfully conceded that his pasta carbonara was 'quite good', but he was yet to try her chili, so they'd have to reserve judgement on who was the best cook for a later date.

By the time they'd cleared away the plates – and most of the residual mess – Kate was feeling much more relaxed, though keenly aware that, as the evening passed, they were heading closer and closer to the inevitable. They took their desserts to the couch.

'Thank you, Castle,' she said as they settled down, close, but not quite touching.

'I aim to please,' he replied lightly, and then his tone lowered his eyes changed in a moment. 'In every way.'

She couldn't wait anymore. Still clutching her dessert, she quickly straddled his lap, satisfied with the expression of shocked lust on his face. She kissed him quickly, then dipped her index finger in the silky mousse and offered it to him. He grabbed her wrist and slowly – so very slowly - took her finger into his mouth and his lips closed over it, tongue sliding up, cleaning away the chocolate; his eyes never left hers and instinctively, she rolled her hips towards his and they seemed to sigh together.

Maintaining eye contact, Castle placed his dessert on the side table, and then took her own. His hands, now free, came to rest in the small of her back, pulling her towards him. One hand on his face and another in his hair, Kate leaned in.

His mouth was warm and chocolaty, his tongue sliding against hers. She kissed him until she was breathless and she could feel his own breaths coming in snatches against the skin of her cheek, but she pulled it back - slowed it down until her lips were barely touching his. She wanted to remember everything this time; she wanted to know every detail of what it felt like to be undressed by him, to watch him as he revealed her.

'Please,' she whispered, 'take me to bed.'

'Oh, gladly.'

Rising from the sofa, she waited for him to join her and allowed him to lead her into her bedroom, as she had led him to his, the night before. As they reached the full length mirror in her bedroom, she knew exactly what she wanted him to do and stopped, pulling him back so that he stood behind her.

'Let me watch you undress me,' she said. His assent came in the form of a low groan that stuck in the back of his throat; his hands snaked around her body, and came to rest on her stomach.

'I will show you every day,' he said, his lips brushing her neck, 'just how beautiful I think you are.'

She watched as his hands smoothed up her body until they each cupped one of her breasts. She held her breath and waited. Then, slowly, so very slowly, his fingers worked at the buttons of her blouse, the material falling open to reveal her bra and her bare stomach. When the last button came undone, he eased the garment from her body and then set to work on her pants.

It was exhilarating, watching him work – he was barely touching her but his fingers brushed her skin in the most tantalising of ways. Finally, she stood only in her underwear and his hands once again came together on her stomach and pulled her to him, so she was leaning against him.

'Watch,' he whispered in her ear. With one hand on her forehead, holding her against his shoulder, he began to touch her with more purpose. Her stomach, the skin above the lace on her bra and then _there, _fingertips grazing so softly that it seemed impossible they could create such exquisite sensations.

Through clenched teeth, she hissed, '_Castle.'_

For the next few minutes, she wasn't sure how she remained on her feet, as his fingers slipped under the fabric that concealed her, working in slow, measured circles, taking her to the edge, and then bringing her back again; he removed her bra and she watched, fascinated, as his hands cupped her, teased at her nipples and then slipped off her the last of her clothing.

She stood in front of the mirror, naked, watching herself as Castle – her partner, her dear friend: her lover – eased her to new levels of pleasure. She wasn't expecting it when it happened and her knees buckled. One of his strong arms immediately wrapped around her middle, securing her against his body as his other hand, between her legs, finished her off.

'Open your eyes,' he whispered as wave after wave of pleasure surged through her. What she saw was herself as someone she barely recognised: as someone open and free and loved in a way that she'd never imagined she could be.

-To Be Continued…-


End file.
